Anthony Trent, Master Criminal

by Wyndham Martyn

  CHAPTER XIV

  AMBULANCES AND DIAMONDS

  THERE was an opportunity later on to visit the Scribblers again.Crosbeigh begged him to come as he desired a full attendance in honor ofan occasion unique in the club's history.

  It seemed that some soldier members of the club, foregathering in NewYork, offered the opportunity for a meeting that might never recur. Thetoastmaster was a former officer and the speakers were men who hadfought through the ghastly early years of the war before the UnitedStates came into it.

  It happened that Trent had known the toastmaster, Captain Alan Kent,when the two had been newspaper cubs together. In those days Kent hadbeen an irresponsible, happy-go-lucky youngster, liked by all for hiscarefree disposition. To-day, after three years of war, he was a sternerman, in whose eyes shone steadily the conviction of the cause he hadespoused. War had purged the dross from him.

  "You boys, here," he said, "haven't suffered enough. You haven't seennations in agony as we have. The theater of war is still too remote. Theloss of a transport wakens you to renewed effort for a moment and thenyou get back to thinking of other things, more agreeable things, andspeculate as to when the war will be over. I've spoken to rich men whoseem to think they've done all that is required of them by purchasing afew Liberty Bonds. They must be bought if we are to win the war, butthere's little of the personal element of sacrifice in merely buyinginterest-bearing bonds."

  He launched into a description of war as he had seen it, dwelling on thecharacter it developed rather than the horrors he had suffered, horrorssuch as are depicted in the widely circulated book of Henri Barbusse.This mention of negative patriotism rather disturbed Anthony Trent. Allhe had done was to buy Liberty Bonds. And here was Alan Kent, who hadlived through three years of hell to come back full of courage andcheer, and anxious, when his health was reestablished, to leave theBritish Service and enroll in the armies of America. It was notagreeable for him to think how he had passed those three years.

  He was awakened from these unpleasant thoughts by the applause whichfollowed Kent's speech. The next speaker was an ambulance driver, whomade a plea for more and yet more ambulances.

  "Lots of you people here," he said, "seem to think that when once abattery of ambulances are donated they are there till the war is over.They suffer as much as guns or horses. The Huns get special marks overthere for potting an ambulance, and they're getting to be experts at thegame. I've had three of Hen. Ford's little masterpieces shot under me,so to speak. I'm trying to interest individuals in giving ambulances.They're not very expensive. You can equip one for $5,000. Men have saidto me, 'What's the use of one ambulance?' I tell them as I tell you thatthe one they may send will do its work before it's knocked out. It maypick up a brother or pal of a man in this room. It may pick up some ofyou boys even, for some of you are going. God, it makes me tired thiscry of what's the use of 'one little ambulance.'"

  When the dinner was over Trent renewed his acquaintance with CaptainKent and was introduced to Lincoln, the Harvardian driver of anambulance. Over coffee in the Pirates' Den Lincoln told them more of hiswork.

  "This afternoon," he said, "I had tea with the Baroness von Eckstein.You know who she is?"

  Trent nodded. The Baroness was the enormously wealthy widow of a St.Louis brewer who had married a Westphalian noble and hoped thereby toget into New York and Washington society. The Baron had been willing tosell his title--not an old one--for all the comforts of a wealthy home.He had become naturalized and was not suspected by the Department ofJustice of treachery. His one ambition seemed to be to drink himself todeath on the best cognac that could be obtained. This potent brew, takenhalf and half with champagne, seemed likely to do its work. It wasrumored that his wife did not hinder him in this interesting pursuit.

  "I sat behind him at a theater once," Trent admitted. "He's a thinlittle man with an enormous head and a strong Prussian accent." Heresisted the temptation to mimic the Baron as he could have done. Hecould not readily banish his professional caution.

  "I tried to get the Baroness to buy and equip four ambulances," Lincolnwent on. "It would only have cost her twenty thousand dollars--nothingto her--but she refused."

  "Before we went into the war," Captain Kent reminded him, "she wasstrongly pro-German."

  "She's had enough sense to stop that talk in New York," Lincoln went on."She's still trying to break into the Four Hundred and you've got to beloyal to your country for that, thank God!"

  "I thought she was in St. Louis," Trent observed.

  "She's taken a house in town," Lincoln told him. "The Burton Trentmansion on Washington Square, North. Took it furnished for three months.She had to pay like the deuce for the privilege. _Gotham Gossip_unkindly remarks that she did it so some of the Burton Trents' friendsmay call on her, thinking they are visiting the Trents. It's the nearestshe'll ever get to high society. It made me sick to hear her hard luckstory. Couldn't give me a measly twenty thousand dollars because ofincome tax and high cost of living and all that sort of bunk, while shehad a hundred thousand dollars in diamonds on her fat neck. I felt likepulling them off her."

  Anthony Trent pricked up his ears at this.

  "I didn't know she had a necklace of that value," he mused.

  "I guess you don't know much about the fortunes these millionaire womenhang all over 'em," said Lincoln. Lincoln had an idea the other man wasa bookish scholar, a collector of rare editions, one removed fromknowledge of society life.

  "That must be it," Trent agreed. He wondered if another man in allAmerica had so intimate a knowledge of the disposition of famous gems."So she won't give you any money for ambulances?"

  "It's known she subscribed largely to the German Red Cross before wegot into the war. Leopards don't change their spots easily, as you know.It was one of her chauffeurs at her country place near Roslyn who riggedup a wireless and didn't know he was doing anything the governmentdisapproved of. His mistress lent him the money to equip the thing andshe didn't know she ought not to have done it. I tell you I felt likepulling that necklace off her fat old neck. Wouldn't you feel that way?"

  "It might make me," Trent admitted, "a little envious."

  * * * * *

  On the whole, Trent enjoyed his first evening of emancipation immensely.Particularly glad was he to meet his old friend, Alan Kent, again. Therepressed life he had led made him more than ever susceptible to thehearty friendship of such men as he had met.

  With some of them he made arrangements to go to a costume dance, aGreenwich Village festival, at Webster Hall, on the following evening.He did not know that Captain Kent was attending less as one who wouldenjoy the function socially than an emissary of his government. It wasknown that many of the villagers had not registered. Some had spokenopenly against the draft and others were suspected of pro-Germantendencies that might be dangerous. It was not a commission Kent caredabout, but it was a time in the national history where old friendshipsmust count for naught. Treason must be stamped out.

  It was not until midnight that Trent dropped into Webster Hall. It wasthe nearest approach to the boulevard dances that New York ever saw. Thecostumes were gorgeous, some of them, but for the greater part quaintand bizarre. As a Pierrot he was inconspicuous. There were a number ofmen he knew from the Scribblers' Club. He greeted Lincoln withenthusiasm. He liked the lad. He envied him his record. It was while hewas talking to him that a gorgeously dressed woman seized Lincoln'shands as one might grasp those of an old and dear friend.

  "Naughty boy," she said playfully. "Why haven't you asked me to dance?"

  "I feared I wasn't good enough for you," Lincoln lied with affablereadiness. "You dance like a professional."

  While this badinage went on Trent gazed at the woman with idlecuriosity. Her enameled face, penciled eyebrows and generally carefulmake-up made her look no more than five-and-forty. Her hair washenna-colored, with purple depths in it. She was too heavy for herheight and her eyes were bright with the light that com
es in cocktailglasses. She had reached the fan-tapping, coquettish, slightly amorousstage. Her bold eyes soon fell on Anthony Trent, who was a far morepersonable man than Lincoln.

  "Who is your good-looking friend?" she demanded.

  Lincoln was bound to make the introduction. From his manner Trentimagined he was not overpleased at having to do so.

  "Mr. Anthony Trent--the Baroness von Eckstein," he said.

  The Baroness instantly put her bejeweled hand within Trent's arm.

  "I am sure you dance divinely," she cooed.

  Lincoln was a little disappointed at the readiness with which the olderman answered.

  "If you will dance with me I shall be inspired," said Trent.

  "Very banal," Lincoln muttered as the two floated away from him.

  "I'm so glad to be rescued from Lincoln," he told her. "He is so earnestand seems to think I have an ambulance in every pocket for him."

  "This begging, begging, begging is very tiresome," the Baronessadmitted. She wished she might say exactly what she and her noblehusband felt concerning it. She had understood that some of theseartists and writers in the village were exceedingly liberal in theirviews. "Mrs. Adrien Beekman has been bothering me about givingambulances all this afternoon."

  "She is most patriotic," he smiled, "but boring all the same."

  "I suppose you are one of these delightfully bad young men who say anddo dreadful things," she hazarded, a little later.

  "I am both delightful and bad," he admitted, "and a number of the thingsI have done and shall do are dreadful."

  "I am afraid of you," she cried coquettishly.

  There was about her throat a magnificent necklace, evidently that ofwhich Lincoln had spoken at the Scribblers' dinner. It was worth perhapshalf of what the ambulance man had said. The stones were set inplatinum.

  "I wonder you are not afraid of wearing such a magnificent necklacehere," he said later.

  "Are you so dangerous as that?" she retorted.

  "Worse," he answered.

  She looked at him curiously. The Baroness liked young and good-lookingmen. Trent knew perfectly well what was going on in her mind. He had metwomen of this type before; women who could buy what they wanted and neednot haggle at the price. Her eyes appraised him and she was satisfiedwith what she saw.

  "I believe you are just as bad as you pretend to be," she declared.

  "Do I disappoint you?" he demanded.

  "Of course," she laughed, "I shall have to reform you. I am very good atreforming fascinating man-devils like you. You must come and have teawith me one afternoon."

  "What afternoon?" he asked.

  "To-morrow," she said, "at four."

  If she had guessed with what repulsion she had inspired Trent she wouldhave been startled. She was a type he detested.

  Later he said:

  "Isn't it unwise of you to wear such a gorgeous necklace at a mixedgathering like this?"

  "If it were real it would be," she answered. "Don't tell any one," shecommanded, "but this is only an imitation. The real one is on mydressing table. This was made in the Rue de la Paix for me and only anexpert could tell the difference and then he'd have to know hisbusiness."

  "What are you frowning at?" he demanded when he saw her gaze directedtoward a rather noisy group of newcomers.

  "These are my guests," she whispered. "I'd forgotten all about them.Doesn't that make you vain? I shall have to look after them. Later onthey are all coming over to the house to have a bite to eat." Shesqueezed his hand. "You'd better come, too."

  The Baroness was not usually so reckless in her invitations. She hadlearned it was not being done in those circles to which she aspired. Butto-night she was unusually merry and there was something about Trent'skeen, hawk-like type which appealed to her. Lincoln, she reflected, cameof a good Boston family with houses in Beacon Street and Pride'sCrossing, and his friend _must_ be all right.

  * * * * *

  No sooner had she moved toward her guests than Trent made his way to thestreet. Over his costume he wore a long black cloak which another thanhe had hired. Very few people were abroad. There was a slight fog andthose who saw him were in no way amazed. Webster Hall dances hadprepared the neighborhood for anything.

  He was not long in coming to Washington Square. It was in the block ofhouses on the north side that he was specially interested. From theother side of the road he gazed up at the Burton Trent house. Then goingeast a little, he came to the door of the only apartment house in theblock. It was not difficult for him to manipulate the lock. Quietly heclimbed to the top of the house until he came to a ladder leading to thedoor on the roof.

  A few feet below him he could see the roof of the neighboring house. Tothis he dropped silently and walked along until the square skylight ofthe Burton Trent mansion was at hand. The bars that held the aperturewere rusted. It required merely the exercise of strength to pry one ofthem loose. Underneath him was darkness. Since Trent had not come outoriginally on professional business, he was without an electric torch.He had no idea how far the drop would be. Very carefully he crawled in,and, hanging by one hand, struck a match. He dropped on to the floor ofan attic used mainly for the storage of trunks.

  The door leading from the room was unlocked and he stepped out into adark corridor. Looking over the balustrade, he could see that the floorbelow was brilliantly lighted. From an article in a magazine devoted tointerior decoration he had learned the complete lay-out of theresidence. He knew, for example, that the servants slept in the "el" ofthe house which abutted on the mews behind. Ordinarily he would haveexpected them to be in bed by this time. But the Baroness had told himshe had guests coming in. There would inevitably be some servants makingpreparations. They would hardly have business on the second or thirdfloors of the house. The Burton Trents, who had let their superb home asa war-economy measure, would never allow any alteration of thearrangement of their wonderful furniture. And the Baroness would hardlybe likely to venture to set her taste against that of a family sheadmired and indeed envied. It was therefore probable that the Baronessoccupied the splendid sleeping chamber on the second floor front, anapartment to which the writer on interior decoration had devoted severalpages.

  His borrowed cloak enveloping him, he descended the broad stairs untilhe stood at the entrance of the room he sought. It was indeed amagnificent place. His artistic sense delighted in it. Its furniture hadonce been in the sleeping room of a Venetian Doge. It had cost a fortuneto buy.

  The dressing room leading from it was lighted more brilliantly. Therewas a danger that the Baroness's maid might be there awaiting the returnof her mistress.

  Peeping through the half-opened door, he satisfied himself that no maidwas there. On the superb dressing table with its rich ornaments he couldsee a large gold casket, jewel-encrusted, which probably hid the stoneshe had come to get.

  Swiftly he crossed the soft Aubusson carpet and came to the table. Hewas far too cautious to lay hands on the metal box straightaway.Although he was nameless and numberless so far as the police wereconcerned, he was not anxious to leave finger-prints behind. He knewthat in all robberies such as he intended the police carefully preservethe finger-prints amongst the records of the case and hope eventually tosaddle the criminal with indisputable evidence of his theft. UsuallyParker wore the white kid gloves that go with full evening dress.To-night he was without them. He was also in the habit of carrying atube of collodion to coat the finger-tips and defy the finger-printers.This, too, he was without since his adventure was an unpremeditated one.

  While he was wondering how to set about his business, he was startled bya sound behind him. From the cover of a _chaise longue_ at the far endof the room a small, thin man raised himself. Trent knew in a moment itwas the Baron von Eckstein. He relaxed his tense attitude and walkedwith a friendly smile to the other man. He had mentally rehearsed therole he was to play. But the Baron surprised him.

  "Hip, hip, 'ooray!" hiccoughed the aristocrat.<
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  There was not a doubt as to his condition. He swayed as he tried to situp straighter. His eyes were glazed with drink.